


A Very Important Date (#1 - Eggsy)

by LelithSugar



Series: Follow the White Rabbit [1]
Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: #hoppyhartwin, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Blow Jobs, Bunny Girl, Costumes, Explicit Sexual Content, First Meetings, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Getting Together, M/M, Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Pining, Romance, Seduction, Semi-Public Sex, Smut, bunny week, is the closest tag to Bunny waiter/barman
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-16
Updated: 2019-04-16
Packaged: 2020-01-15 04:40:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18491554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LelithSugar/pseuds/LelithSugar
Summary: Eggsy is a bunny on a mission. He’s fallen hard for one of the regulars at the bar where he plies his ludicrously-dressed trade, and tonight might be his only chance.





	A Very Important Date (#1 - Eggsy)

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by some absolutely gorgeous artworks by Starrr (@kingsman_hell on twitter .  
> Bunny Hartwin week (#HoppyHartwin) is in full swing on twitter! Come see all the lovely art and things! And I do hope you enjoy this first piece of my offering. It's a three-parter (hopefully).

 

A Very Important Date

 

Eggsy checks his teeth in the mirror, adjusts the posing wire in his rabbit ears and pulls his shortened tuxedo jacket flat. 

_ Here we go.   _

Tonight is the night. Four times he’s bottled it but today is Harry’s birthday and he’ll never get a better chance. Might not get another chance at all, because if this much time and this sort of occasion can pass by without anything happening, when will it? How long’s he going to be able to keep Harry interested for? 

Does he even realise he has a chance? Like, not to be big headed but fancying the bunnies is kind of part of the deal. It’d be a pretty shit business model if everybody got fancied back. It just so happens that Harry is gorgeous and Eggsy wants to ride him off into the sunset. 

Or something.

He’d turned up to ' _Jessica's'_ … fuck, it must be nearly a year ago now, in a party, some of whom Eggsy had seen before, some he hadn’t. Harry had been wide eyed and charmed by the whole set up, charming with all the staff; not taken himself too seriously, doled out an absolute mint in tips and generally seemed to be having a whale of a night, and Eggsy was only too pleased to help. Consider his head firmly turned. 

And he’d kept coming back, two Fridays a month, being lovely and Harry had smoothly elevated himself from “the best looking person spending a fortune" to a genuine solid gold crush. The sort of person Eggsy could actually imagine wanting to be with if it weren’t all just a joke, just part of the role.  Harry’s funny; obviously smart and too polite to be shocked when Eggsy had demonstrated having more that two brain cells to rub together even if some of his references had caught him off guard; honest, in at least as much as there is no gap in his tan on his ring finger and he could have a laugh at it all. So many blokes made excuses for being there - like it was shameful, and missing the fact they were talking to someone who depended on the place to pay the bills - or drivelled on dropping names and making comments about their car or their yacht or whateverthefuck, but not Harry. Harry had no problem at all admitting that if he was going to spend his evening drinking in his own company, he’d rather do it eyeballing bunnies than watching I’m a Celebrity… and though he doesn’t brag about money, his tips are up there with the best. 

Every now and then he’ll bring friends. Eggsy will wait on them all hand and foot because that’s literally his job, plus a little extra flex and attention because Harry tips so well and he wants them to see why it’s justified, plus more flirting directly at Harry because he’s lived in hope that one of them will drag him aside one day and be like “look, there’s getting treated well because you’re good business and then there’s  _ that _ , he obviously fancies the pants off you, slip him your number next time you politely tuck a tenner in his stocking top” but it hasn’t happened.

It probably has happened. Harry’s exactly the type to be wary of confusing manners for interest, to be so scared of harassing you; to be a perfect gentleman at the exact moment you wanted him to be anything but.

And Christ, has Eggsy been thinking some really ungentlemanly shit about Harry lately, and the other bunnies have been winding him up about his daddy issues, because yeah Harry’s got to be what, late forties at least - the birthday on his membership only gave him day and month - but  _ damn _ . 

And sure, pulling the punters is against the rules but so’s cocaine and that’s never stopped nobody. 

Eggsy fidgets with his bowtie, and pushes the band his ears are mounted on down and back again so that the little teeth root into his hair and keep his slight quiff neat. He winks at himself in the mirror. He looks good. Like, he always looks good at work, it’s part of the job that you look after yourself and scrub up alright, but tonight there’s a special sparkle in his eye, accented by a touch of makeup - what? They all do it, the lights wash you right out otherwise - and that’s just for Harry.

He doesn’t know why he’s nervous. It’s not like he’s going to say no. 

Well, he might, there’s an outside chance they might be headed for some hardcore awkwardness about professionalism and misunderstandings but honestly, Eggsy’s pretty fucking confident that Harry is actually as gagging for him as it feels like he is so maybe half of what he’s nervous about is what it’s actually going to be like when they get it on. 

The thought makes a quick shiver go down Eggsy’s back and goosebumps prick up along his arms, and for a moment he thinks someone’s left the fire escape open again, but it's just excitement.  Would it be mad passion? Frantic and hard and quick, like something out of a film? Or is Harry going to look at him like he can’t believe his luck and take it so painfully, teasingly slow as he cherishes every touch that Eggsy’s gonna be begging by the time Harry gets him out of the next to nothing he’s wearing to start with…

Either sounds pretty good, if he’s honest. Eggsy hasn’t seen a lot of action laely, partly because he’s working when most people are socialising -  it’s not as easy to get that no strings uninhibited hook up at two o’clock on a Thursday afternoon - and he’s been shortening his own options mostly because recently “ _ but Harry _ ” is a thing that has started popping into his head. Yeah He  _ could _ go out with an old school friend who suggested dinner the other week when he had a night off  _ but Harry _ would take him somewhere stupidly posh and show him what wine went with his three courses if he gave him the chance. He feels like he knows that.   He  _ could  _ pick someone up off an app in ten minutes flat  _ but Harry _ would miss out purely for being a bit mature to get involved with all of that, presumably, dutifully coming here and forking out a fortune to get to flirt with Eggsy when Eggsy’s getting home and going out having better-than-nothing sex with near strangers. Doesn’t feel right, somehow. Feels like he’s going behind Harry’s back and they ain’t even a thing.

Who’s he kidding. He’s been in a relationship ever since that night he had to take the bar shift. 

Working the bar sucks absolute balls and everyone who works at Jessica’s knows it. It’s boring and the tips are nowhere near as good because everyone should be being waited on by a bunny,  but if the bar’s closed  _ nobody _ gets to bunny, and Eggsy had drawn the short straw or owed someone a favour or just been too nice for his own good, he can’t remember, and ended up spending a prime Saturday night shift stuffed sweating into a proper shirt and tie and trousers and a stupid little apron, pouring overpriced drinks. And around half eleven Harry had appeared, like a fucking dapper mirage, the fleeting promise of decent company, and slid himself onto one of the bar stools. 

“Do you want me to see if I can get your table freed up? Roxy with the hula hoops is on at midnight.”

Harry had turned an eyebrow. 

“And miss the rare opportunity to see you with clothes on? I don’t think so, thank you.” 

It had got the laugh he wanted, for sure, and then he’d just… stayed the rest of the night. They’d chatted through the quiet spells when acts were on, and Harry had anything between a withering look and a classic one liner for anyone who happened to overlook the tip jar on the bar, so the night had been nowhere near the loss Eggsy was expecting on any front. And alright, he might have not charged Harry for a few drinks he poured him without being asked to, which had clearly thrown Harry’s count right out because by the time Eggsy was getting ready to cash up he was definitely sloshed, he’d completely missed his usual lift home and Eggsy had ended up half carrying him to a cab and sending him home with a bottle of full fat coke from the kebab shop a couple of doors down.

A bunch of flowers had arrived for Eggsy at the trade entrance to the club the following day:  _ thank you for babysitting a daft old fool who can’t handle his gin anymore. You’re a perfect gentleman and I am indebted. H H _

Everyone had gone nuts. It was like the good old days, apparently: bunnies being sent beautiful favours from gentleman callers, except it was Eggsy getting roses when the girls were getting dick pics and he might have let on to Harry that he’d been the envy of the dressing room and that he would get Harry’s drunk arse home safely any time he liked.

Didn’t say whose home, now, did he?

After that Harry kept bringing or sending Eggsy bits and pieces - presents, like sweets and bottles of fancy stuff and books: if they talked about a film he hadn’t seen or a book it hadn’t read, there it would be, and sometimes if it was a quiet night and he got to spend a bit more time at Harry’s table than normal, and the flirting got a bit real, he’d get something a day or two into the week with Just the message “thinking of you". And yeah, Eggsy bets he was, because it’s not hardship at all to picture Harry at home in his big posh house, cock in hand, maybe looking at the couple of pictures of Eggsy in the bar’s Facebook album. And he’d tried to let him know that was a-okay by him by putting a few of the prints from that shoot in an envelope, just for him. Felt a bit cringey, but the girls were doing it all the time, sending out their signed prints with lipstick kisses, and Harry’d gone a lovely smiley pink when he’d opened them up and quickly tucked them into the breast pocket of his suit jacket… right over his heart, not that either of them said it.

It had seemed to be picking up momentum for a while - Eggsy waiting for the day Harry might put his mouth where his money was - but he’s part of the furniture again now, sitting in his usual spot, happy to watch the reasonably varied roster of lounge singers, magic acts, drag, burlesque… it could be wishful thinking but Eggsy gets the distinct impression that it’s just a pleasant background whilst he daydreams about whatever he’s daydreaming about when Eggsy brings his next drink over and gets that heartstopping toothy honest smile. The magic acts don’t get no flowers from him, that’s for sure.  

Nonetheless, he looks to be heading for his usual route on what his membership assured Eggsy is his birthday,  like it ain’t even a special day.

Eggsy’s about to make it one, come hell or fucking high water.

“Here he is!” He calls it like he’s on stage, like he’s been looking for Harry fruitlessly for ages rather than just waiting to watch him walk in.  “No party?” He ticks his tongue, raises an eyebrow, cocks his hip. He knows how this looks, and how it’s got to look for the benefit of those who will not be receiving the same special treatment. “Well, you’d best come along with me then. Birthday boys get a private booth, I don’t make the rules.”

He doesn’t, and that isn’t one: they are allowed at discretion to give treats and freebies to regular customers on special occasions and they’re not so busy he’ll get it in the neck for occupying a booth, but the rest is definitely off script. 

The first win is when Harry doesn’t try to talk his way out of being lead by the hand towards one of the booths. Eggsy was almost expecting resistance so this is great, plus Harry has lovely long fingers and holding his hand feels really, really nice. It’s admittedly a weird time to be thinking that, but it’s true and Eggsy enjoys it all the way to the first open small room to the side of the stage, and draws Harry inside. 

Inside it's dark. Close. All a little warmly real and Eggsy can feel his pulse at the bottom of his throat so fuck knows how Harry feels. He's the one that looks like a rabbit in headlights. 

  
“What… happens now?” Harry shifts his gaze nervously to the wall, to the booth next door, like he thinks what’s going on here is what’s going on in all of them and… Eggsy can play with that a little bit. Harry’s smart, he’ll work it out sooner or later, and there can be a bit of fun in between.

“You’re supposed to offer me a drink,” Eggsy drawls deliberately, fingers lightly playing up Harry’s sleeve.  “And I’m supposed to ask for champagne because it makes us look classy and just happens to be the most expensive thing we sell, and Jess knows ain’t nobody going to say no to me if I tell you I’m thirsty and that’s what I really want…”

Harry nods, obviously caught on the hook and Eggsy almost feels bad for setting it up like that, he’s only gonna confuse him, but he wants that moment when the penny drops and harry realises he really  _ is  _ getting special treatment.

“But I  _ am _ thirsty and you don’t drink wine. So I’ll get you your usual?” Harry nods, slow and considered, wary. “And I’m gonna put a Jack and Coke on your tab for me and be back in a couple of minutes.” 

Eggsy uses the trip to the bar to clear his head, cool his face down, get himself together a bit. Even pops a fiver from his own tips into the bar jar because _fuck that_ and Dan  _is_ quick with their drinks, so he's back in no time: popping them down on the table and closing the door, turning the thumb lock so they won't be interrupted.

"There. It's just me and you."

Harry looks about how he expected at this point: eyes wide and blinking steadily behind those sexy-schoolteacher glasses, obviously trying to work out whether this is what normally happens or whether he's dreaming or... not.

Eggsy just sits on his lap.

“Are you… allowed to do this?” To give Harry his due he sounds calmer than he looks: low and sexy and Eggsy almost wants to tell him no, he's being very naughty right now, and see if he gets a spank for his trouble. 

Harry smells so, so good up close. Eggsy is close enough to kiss him but he draws it out, nosing along Harry's jaw - smooth shaven, flawless - and shifting for closeness and comfort on his lap.

“Depends what you think I’m doing.” 

Harry’s quiet then, just looking at him, like he's begging for a clue. Eggsy knows one of the girls offered him a dance once and Harry had so politely let her know that women on the whole were not his type but thank you so much for the offer, but Eggsy is also fairly sure at this point that from  _ him _ , Harry would pay whatever he asked for just about anything. A kiss. The flash of his chest. Harry’s never been back here, so he’s got no idea what’s on the table and what isn’t but it’s pretty obvious he’s twigged this isn’t normal protocol. Thank fuck, really.

“We ain’t allowed to sell anything  _ too _ full on, if that’s what you’re asking.” 

“Well, no, of course.”   He says  _ of course, _ but he’s got his hands just resting comfortably on Eggsy’s arse. Eggsy’s inordinately pleased about that.

“Private dances, naughty chatting over cocktails, but of leeway on that no touching rule …” - which is already out of the window, ain’t it - “ ...those sorts of things are what’s on the menu for the right amount of money, you know?” And Harry’s obviously about to ask _ what  _  the right amount of money is before he even decides what out of those he thinks he wants,  so Eggsy’s got to get in quick with a low drawl he hopes is sexy, taking Harry’s hands and holding them down at his sides.  “But put that wallet away and sit on it. I ain’t want you paying for another fuckin’ thing.” 

That's obviously _not_ what he was expecting.

“So why am I here?”

“Cos I’m taking a gamble that you won’t grass me up.”

And Eggsy sounds out the  _ fuck it, here goes _ in his head and kisses him.

For a moment he thinks he’s properly cocked it up because Harry freezes solid, but then after a couple of seconds he makes this broken little noise and then his tongue is against Eggsy’s, hot and gentle and they fit together so softly, so enticingly that it’s barely like a first kiss at all. It opens up easily until Eggsy's sucking on Harry's tongue, pushing it back so he can tease at him too but Harry obviously likes the upper hand - and  _fuck_ that's hot. He stumbles back quite willingly whe Harry tries to stand up, letting himself be guided by those big hands, one on his waist, the other coming up into  his hair -  “Oi, mind the ears,” and Harry fucking  _ growls. _

Harry pushes him back to sit on the table and starts working his way down Eggsy’s neck until the collar stops him. Doesn’t stop him, at all: Harry just works along his jaw instead, little nibbles and nudges with his teeth amongst soft wet kisses that make Eggsy’s skin tingle and his cock ache,  and Eggsy repays him in kind but gently, with licking kisses on Harry’s neck rather than the harsh sucking ones he wants to go in for. Tricks of the trade, ain't it? never leave a mark, even though he trusts that Harry isn’t cheating, privately reckons he’d be pleased as punch to wake up tomorrow with something to remember Eggsy by… but hopefully he won’t need that. Truth be told, Eggsy’s a cuddler when he gets the chance, quite fancies finding out what side of the bed Harry sleeps on and seeing where it goes from there. 

Harry’s lips are wandering, taking his sweet sweet time  Like he could even be stalling but his hands have got a death grip on Eggsy’s  hips like it’s hard for him to go so slowly too, and he ducks below the collar now to give the same attention to Eggsy’s collarbones, the tops of his shoulders, and Eggsy just tips his head back and moans. Nobody’s made him feel wanted like this in ages. Like, he’d hoped it would be like this but a nice daydream and actually getting your body loved on in one of work’s swanky privacy cubicles are two different things and  _ god,  _ he forgot how fucking hot kissing could be. Not that this would pass for an innocent snog anymore, not with Harry’s mouth and hands all over him and how fucking  _ hard  _ it’s obvious Eggsy is getting. 

He sort of wants to turn it around, to sit Harry down and take the reins because it’s his birthday and he shouldn’t be doing all the work, making Eggsy feel  _ that fucking good…  _

But then a peaceful inner voice just says  _ let him.  _ This is his fantasy. Eggsy barely knows him but he knows Harry would not have daydreamed about Eggsy serving him more than a cocktail and a bowl of olives, but about the chance to turn the tables and show him a good time, and he’s doing pretty well with that already. 

Eggsy’s head is spinning. The touch of Harry’s open mouth down from collar to pectoral pulls a hot thrill up his back and harry makes him wait,  _ wait  _ for anything else, not going for eggsy’s nipple but kissing around it, closer every time until his tongue flashes over it at last and the bolt of excitement is so intense for a second Eggsy thinks he’s going to come, just like that. But no:it’s just really fucking good. Hurriedly, he pops the button on his jacket and lets it fall open to give Harry better access, to show him the full breadth of his chest and the cut of his abs and hear Harry gasp at the sight of so much skin. Right. Because for all the skimpiness that’s probably the most of Eggsy’s body he’s ever actually got a look at, which is a fun thing to play with and Eggsy flexes for him - just because, you know - and Harry dives back down to take his wonderful, brilliant fucking mouth on a perfect journey from Eggsy’s nipple down to the ridges of his stomach. 

Eggsy grabs hold of his back silk bottoms and pulls them down at the front to let his cock free. It’s a bit brash but he knows he’s starting to leak and he’s not got spares for the rest of his shift… Christ, how’s he going to get on with another four hours of this when his legs are jelly now, and Harry’s barely touched him?  This is stupid, proper stupid, probably going to cost him his job but then the heat of Harry’s breath envelops Eggsy’s dick and he doesn’t care. It’s already worth it. 

Harry hums a little noise that sounds like fucking delight and settles down to his knees. Eggsy gets his weight settled, unable to do anything but stare at Harry teasing him with the very tip of his tongue, stroking at his legs, looking up at Eggsy like there’s nowhere he’d rather be in the damn world and then swallowing him down to the root in one move. 

God, he knew he was gonna be a keeper. 

He’s showing off, for sure, because Eggsy ain’t one to brag but he’s not got anything to be self conscious about when he’s walking the club in the really skimpy pants, put it that way, and not many people have tried to deepthroat him. Less have succeeded, and there harry is just taking him down like a dream, sending Eggsy’s eyes rolling with the slick silk feeling of being down his throat. 

He can’t help moaning then, but to be fair he doesn’t try very hard. You can’t hear much from the booths and Harry deserves to know he’s got fucking skills, Jesus, he’s only been down there a couple of minutes and Eggsy can already feel himself drawing tight, ready to come. The tingling waves of pleasure through his body are ice-hot, burning chills, shocks rolling top to bottom quicker and quicker...

Harry encourages Eggsy to sling a leg over his shoulder so he can guide him with a heel in between his shoulders… not that Eggsy knows how to want anything he’s not already getting. He’s strung out with it, sweaty and agitated with need, pulling at his collar and running his hands over his chest for something to do with them, settling eventually for sinking one into Harry’s hair. He snatches it away, breathless.  “Sorry, mate, I-“ but Harry mumbles something around Eggsy’s cock which he can’t make out but it definitely means he doesn’t mind so Eggsy gets a handful again, feeling it silky thick between his fingers. It’s only half a moment’s distraction before Harry’s working his cock again, quicker now, wetter and messier and so perfectly slick it’s going to tip him right over the edge.  “- oh god.”

It’s too fast. Eggsy’s rocking, panting, totally overcome with his body’s own fireworks and Harry’s fucking mouth,  just about managing to warn him “ _ fuck I’m gonna come, I’m gonna come-” _

Harry swallows dutifully, happily, not that he much seems the spitting type. Eggsy can’t believe this man is single…  _ was _ single. Fucked if Eggsy’s letting him go now, if he’s game for more than tonight.

First things first, though, and Eggsy gets his breath back to Harry just standing up, pulling awkwardly at his bloody gorgeous suit. It's rumpled from kneeling, tugging at him where he must be sweating, he looks as overheated as Eggsy is, and strained right across the crotch because he's as hard as Eggsy wants him to be.

Eggsy pulls him for another kiss. Slower, now, some of that control in Eggsy's grasp now the pressure's off for him and not for Harry, who's weak and whimpering in Eggsy's hold, trembling ever so slightly when Eggsy runs hot hands up between his shirt and his jacket to strip it off him. He doesn't need him naked, just wants to touch, and once he's got him down to shirtsleeves  - _nice, very nice_ \- he goes for slipping a hand into Harry's trousers.

His  _ “don’t!”  _  is surprisingly frantic and Eggsy must look as perplexed as he feels, because Harry flushes even further in answer. “I… am afraid I’m on something of a hair-trigger at this point. Must be careful."

Eggsy can feel himself grinning like his teeth are suddenly sharper, dry against his lips. "And we wouldn't wanna waste that now, would we?  What can I do for you, birthday boy?"

He probably should have asked that first but it's more fun now Harry's on that very edge of desperation for him... and it might just be enough to make him spit out whatever dirty daydream's got him shifting about all awkwardly like that, even whilst he's unbuttoning his own fly, teasing the zipper down because it's stretched tight rather than because he realises how avidly Eggsy is watching.

“This is going to sound ridiculous,” he mumbles, more to himself than to Eggsy by the sounds of it.

“Try me mate, I’ve heard some shit.” But he smiles it, because unless it’s  _ really _ weird he wants Harry to know he’ll have him, thanks, quirks and all.

“In all the time I’ve spent admiring you I’ve…” he hesitates, sweet and shy which are not easy things to come across as whilst you’re out of breath and gripping such an impressive hard on. He swallows hard and brings his eyes back to meet Eggsy’s. “I’ve never seen your back, and it’s become something of a fixation.”

Well, that ain't what he was expecting. At all.

“Would you show me? Would you let me…” Harry’s obviously got no intention of finishing that sentence and it’s not like he needs to. Eggsy got a glimpse of that wet spot before Harry pushed the fold of his black boxers aside and his cock's so flushed and rigid it looks almost painful.

Eggsy turns and drops his jacket off one shoulder, looking back to give Harry a proper saucy little wink and realising that there may not be time for excess teasing: he looks beyond ready to blow so Eggsy gets on with it. Yanks his arms out of his sleeves and bares his whole back for Harry to see for the first time.  He’s in good shape, he knows it’s a nice view anyway and how many times has Harry imagined this sight? Pictured Eggsy bent over for him but had to fill in the gaps himself? Not anymore. 

It’s the sweetest, tamest, filthiest fucking thing he’s ever been asked for because he knows it’s only going to be a moment or two before Harry comes over his back, so he makes sure to flex his shoulders, to tilt his hips so his back dips and just wiggle the white tail sewn to the back of his pants and Harry makes this fucking lovely little noise…

… and then a hand, big and hot in the middle of his back and it’s obviously just to still him, or steady him, but Eggsy thinks about Harry holding him down and fucking the daylights out of him and hopes to Christ they’re not done after this because he wants that something fierce. 

Harry makes another noise, like he’s muffling a sob, and before Eggsy can turn to check on him there’s the hot drip on his lower back; Harry pushes his weight suddenly against Eggsys arse and he realises with another shock of excitement that it’s so he doesn’t get it on Eggsys uniform, leaning in so he just keeps his come to the bottom of Eggsys back, dripping in a little rivulet down off the side of his waist. 

He revels in the warm weight of it, the satisfaction. There's the muffle of a well-timed round of applause outside but Eggsy can hear Harry's ragged breathing keeping time with his own.

“I’m gonna have to just lay here while you wipe that off, cos if it gets on my pants I’m a bit fucked for my shift.”

It's no " _We'll always have Paris"_ but it's the truth, and they can get to the rest once they're decent. Eggsy's coming back to himself, realising quite how off-piste this whole thing has been and wondering what the fuck got into him... and he can't even say  _Harry_ because he hasn't yet.

“Of course, of course. Here.” Eggsy feels something soft moping at him. It’s not tissue. Surely not the pocket square?  “Spotless.” He feels the hem of his pants tucked back into place, and a little pat on his tail.

Harry is bright, bright fucking pink, blinking quickly behind slightly fogged up glasses, now tucking himself away into barely creased trousers and yes, the little blue triangle is missing from peeking over his jacket pocket.

“You’re a diamond. So, uh.” He’d sort of planned for this, and he gets the cash he’d saved up and stashed out of the little tear in the lining of his blazer, folds it into a loose roll so it looks like as much as it is, maybe more, and pops it securely in his stocking top. “If anyone asks, I gave you a lap dance, yeah? But don’t make me sound too good. I don’t want nobody asking for one.” 

“Certainly. I can’t thank you enough, surely you must let me-“

Yeah, he’s gonna offer to actually pay, or to return some sort of favour, blah blah. Eggsy was sort of prepared to need to clarify here, and he’s glad he’s still got the sense for it after an orgasm like that.

“Look, I finish at three. Don’t hang around outside, 'cos security will think you’re a stalker.”   It’s sort of cruel, leaving a pause just there and watching the look settle into Harry’s face at that moment. “You can meet me in the kebab shop. I’ll be out by twenty past and I usually get some food on the way home anyway. If you want.” 

Harry kisses him: one last, lingering private snog before Eggsy releases them both back into the bustle of the club.  
  


The next time Eggsy can engineer a chance to pass by, Harry is sitting in his usual spot, looking immaculate except his posture is different, he almost looks like he did well on the way to being drunk that night at the bar, just a little bolder, looser, hazy in the eyes but he gives nothing away. He leaves at the same time he always does, with his exact usual tip and no particular indication whether he’s going to take Eggsy up on his offer, whether he’s going to fuck off now he’s got what he wanted and never come back. 

It’s a gamble. It’s the exact reason they’re not meant to cop off with punters. Nobody pays to look at something they’ve already had.

Eggsy waits another table, throws himself right into it and earns almost enough to make up for no extras from harry and the fact he was off the floor for an hour, but it makes him late and Security Steve’s getting grouchy about waiting for them to get cleared out so he can turn the lights off and lock up, so Eggsy only gets half undressed:  just shoves his tracksuit on over the bottom half of his uniform and bundles out the door with his phone and a fiver clutched in his hand.  

He’s walked on autopilot, thinking about the awkward rub of nylon in trainers and whether that’s a blister he can feel pinching at his little toe; he’s halfway through ordering a chicken Shish and a coke when it occurs to him that he didn’t dream the earlier part of the night because there is H arry, suited and beautiful, in an orange plastic chair at the Formica table, ignoring a portion of undercooked chips in favour of looking at Eggsy like… 

Well, he’s not sure how he expected Harry to feel about him in his civvies, but it was gonna happen at some point. It’s weird like this though, Harry still in his night-out suit…does he dress like that all the time? Eggsy's been presuming so… And Eggsy in joggers and a cap cos he’s used to the walk home alone at this time, to not really wanting anyone to see him pretty now. 

“Uh, alright.”

It's stupid, but without the bunny costume he feels  _more_ silly. Here he's not a character with a favourite client: he's a lad with a big wobbly wet crush on a bloke miles out of his league who just gave him the head of his life in a half public room the size of a broom cupboard.

“Good evening. Or, morning, I suppose?” It’s different, the look on Harry’s face now. Not like he doesn’t like what he’s seeing, at all, but he looks less awestruck, less beguiled than he does in the club. More… hungry? “And may I, uh … are you still Eggsy, outside of work?”

“Yeah! Yeah, Gary, really, but nobody calls me that ‘less I’m in trouble.” He winks, but it's harder work now, to keep up the confidence.   “Pretty much what you see is what you’re getting, when I’m not in there.”

Truth on the table like that, Eggsy waits, coke making his fingers cold, whilst Harry drags an appraising look from his new trainers to the angle of his hat... which he takes off to thoughtfully run his hand through Eggsy's hair. Close enough to kiss.

"Do you know, I've never seen you without ... the ears, before. I was just.... checking."

Eggsy smiles.

"Alright?"

"Perfectly." To make that point he puts that hat back, although it's sitting wrong but Eggsy isn't bothered about that. "Ad I'm rather hoping you might allow me to take my time uncovering any more of you I haven't discovered yet." Which is the richest, silkiest  _I wanna get you naked_ Eggsy has ever heard and he's all bout it, make no mistake, and it's sealed with another gentle, open kiss. "Would you like to come home with me?"

"Lead the fuckin' way."

The poor bloke in the kebab shop calls out after him when he leaves his order on the counter, but Eggsy just holds a thumb up at him and ducks into Harry's cab.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! If you liked it, I'd love to hear about it - comments/kudos etc here are great, you can come scream at me on twitter @agentsnakebite (Private account but I'll accept you!) or tumblr have now reinstated me - @randomactsofviolence


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